


i've got a good mind (to throw it all away)

by lakesandquarries



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Sans Has Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, this is sad and angsty and it wasnt intended to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakesandquarries/pseuds/lakesandquarries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being trapped for so long, freedom is terrifying. Unable to stand his friends worries, Sans locks himself in his room.</p>
<p>Things get worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got a good mind (to throw it all away)

**Author's Note:**

> rewrite of an older fic, now with 20% more suffering

Papyrus is worried.

Sans can tell, can feel it in the way Papyrus watches him when he thinks Sans isn't looking. Can hear it in his brother's voice when he wakes him up each morning. Can taste it in the food Papyrus makes.

"I'm fine," Sans tells him, cringing at how blatantly false it is. "Don't worry about me."

It's not just Papyrus worrying, though. He finds a giant bottle of ketchup in the fridge with a little post-it that says "for sans ]: )". Frisk brings him dinner every night, pushing it under the door when he refuses to open it. Grillby makes a point to stop by. He even gets a text from Alphys asking if he wants to hang out.

("do u wanna get rlly drunk and watch anime and contemplate death" is the exact text. It's the first time he laughs at something in a week, and even then it's more "bitter snort" than actual laughter. He doesn't reply.)

On the one month anniversary of the barrier falling, Sans locks the door to his room and stuffs a blanket in the crack between door and floor. He spends an hour playing shitty mindless games on his phone, until Toriel calls him and he flings the phone across the room. When he goes to pick it up, he finds it broken in half.

At least no one can try to talk to him that way anymore.

For lack of anything better to do, he takes a nap. When he wakes up, the house is dark, quiet. Everyone's asleep. Right now would be the perfect time to go into the kitchen and get some food.

He pulls the blankets back over his head and carefully ignores the pain in his stomach.

In the morning, he wakes up to knocking. Papyrus' knocking, loud and sharp, and in between a softer sound, a tiny fist tapping the door.

"Sans, I know you're in there!"

"I don't think he's gonna come out, Papyrus," he hears Frisk say. Papyrus sighs.

"He gets like this, sometimes," Papyrus informs Frisk. "He'll lock the door and refuse to come out. But...he'll go and get food, at least. I left him some spaghetti in the fridge last night, but it's still there."

"If we could move the blanket, I could slide some food under the door."

"That's a perfect idea, Frisk!"

Part of Sans wants to let them try and get him to eat. Part of him wants to try and stop them. Most of him wants to go back to sleep or, better yet, stop existing entirely.

After a few minutes of deliberation, he uses his magic to hold the blanket there. He can hear Papyrus and Frisk try to move it for a few minutes before finally giving up.

Good, he thinks. They can focus on something else. Like their own happiness. What does it matter if Sans never leaves his room again? It's not like he's ever done anything important, anything helpful. The only good he's ever done was not killing someone. 

(He almost laughs at that. The only time he contributed anything positive to the world was by not doing something. Can it even be thought of as contributing?)

For every good thing he did, every kind word or nice gesture, there’s a thousand timelines where he ruined everything. Up here, there’s no do-overs. Up here, things matter. Up here, he'll have to deal with the aftermath when he inevitably screws up again. Everything is too new and too real for him, after being stuck in a loop for so long, and he doesn’t know how to cope. He doesn’t belong up here, in this world of bright colours and possibilities. 

It's for the best that he never leaves his room again. He's done nothing in life but kill and disappoint. He'll stay in his room until he's dust, and then he'll never worry about disappointing anyone. 

(He's thought about dying, before. When he was fourteen he found a knife at the dump in Waterfall and took it home with him. That night, once Papyrus was asleep, he sat on his bedroom floor and thought about slicing himself open, the way he saw in his dreams sometimes. Thought about the red liquid he would leak, in those dreams, thought about it staining his shirt and hands and then fading as he dissolved.

He thought about Papyrus finding a pile of dust in the morning. He threw the knife away.)

His friends will move on, if he dies. 

(Some days he can’t look at his friends without remembering how it felt to watch them die, can't see Frisk without picturing them holding a knife, can't help but wonder if he was ever the one to kill them all.

He doesn’t know Undyne's middle name, but he knows exactly what it looks like when she dies, knows how her eyes go wide and then narrow, knows how she stops crumbling at first only to dissolve later, knows how her last words are always about Alphys. He looks at them sometimes and all he can see is Undyne desperately trying to cling to life while Alphys watches her screens in shock.)

Back when he was fourteen, Papyrus still needed him. But Papyrus is an adult now. He can take care of himself. He might be a little sad, yeah, but it might be good for him, too. No more having to take care of his older brother, no more calming him down after nightmares, no more reminding him to eat and shower and do anything besides sit and sleep. Maybe then he can actually do something with his life.

(He'll see Papyrus helping Frisk with homework and remember how he encouraged them as he died, how he spared them right from the start and how they smiled at his skull while he crumbled. He sees his brother and all he can think of is death and dust and desperate hands clinging to tattered red fabric.)

Frisk might be a bit hurt, but he's also pretty sure he traumatized the kid about twenty times before he even knew their name. 

(He'll see the kid sleeping and think about the timelines he killed them at the beginning, think about the way their hands shook when they swung their knife at him, think about how they would cling to him like a lifeline even as bones skewered them.)

Toriel might miss his jokes, but she...she deserves someone better than him. Once upon a time, she was a queen, and he's little more than a walking corpse. The only joke now is him.

(He'll help measure flour for baking and remember the way her dust felt in his hands. He's pretty sure he could tell everyone apart by their dust alone.)

Clearly, this is the best choice. He repeats it to himself throughout the day, even as his stomach rumbles and he gets dizzy with thirst. He doesn't deserve this happy ending, this fairytale. 

(He still remembers the way humans’ bodies crumble when they die. It's a different kind of crumbling. Their eyes go blank and their limbs twitch and they leak red and clear. He doesn’t even know their names but the way they looked when they died is burned into his eye sockets. Orange and Yellow and Green and Blue and Purple and Aqua and so much Red.)

When he gets tempted to leave, to eat or drink or speak, he thinks of the first one. When he was seven, soon after Gaster had made Papyrus, he'd stumbled across his files. In the back, buried under experiment logs and pictures of Sans was a photo of a child, with an oversized sweater and ribbons, clutching a toy knife in their tiny hands.

(He still doesn't know their name.)

He falls asleep at one point. Goes from nightmares of his own death to nightmares of everyone else's. When he finally wakes up for real, he remembers what Alphys had suggested they do. _Get drunk, watch anime, and contemplate death._ He hasn't had anything to drink in two days, hasn't watched anything but his own nightmares on repeat, but he's got the "contemplate death" part covered. It's almost funny, except for the part where it isn't funny at all.

Time passes. He's not sure how much. At one point he hears voices outside his room. He tries to use his magic to pick up a pillow from his closet, hoping to use it to muffle the sounds further, but nothing happens.

He tries again. Nothing. He tries getting his eye to glow and is met with a sharp pain.

Huh.

He settles for putting his pillow over his head.

(He remembers reading a report of Gaster's that said a monsters magic often fades when they're about to die. A small part of him is glad. The rest feels nothing. He hasn't really felt anything in awhile.)

The next thing he knows, he's waking up to a loud banging.

"Open the door Sans!!! Or I'll open it myself!!"

It sounds like Undyne's voice, but...why would she be here? Why would she be banging on his door?

"This is your final warning! Open the door, or I _break it down!_ "

"Please be careful," Toriel is saying, and then there's a _crack!_ and a hole just big enough for Undyne to fit her hand through appears. She reaches though and unlocks his door.

...Well then.

(He wants to jump out the window before anyone wastes any more time worrying about him, but the window is too far and he's too weak. He settles, instead, for staring at the wall, pretending no one's there.)

His bed dips as someone sits down.

"Sans," Toriel says, and it's agony to hear her say his name like that, like she cares about him. If she knew what he'd done, if she knew what he _was_ , she'd never speak to him again.

"I brought you some food," she says, very gently, "and a glass of water. Do you need help sitting up?"

He doesn’t need help sitting up, doesn't deserve it. He keeps staring at the wall and doesn't move.

The bed shifts again. Someone's lying down next to him.

"Papyrus is making spaghetti," Frisk informs him, whispering into his ear like it's an important secret. "Just for you."

Sans shuts his eyes. He feels the kid's tiny arms wrap around him.

"I don't know how to help," Frisk admits, still whispering, "but Papyrus said you were sad, and I like hugs when I'm sad." He doesn't move. "I miss you," Frisk says. "It's _bonely_ without you."

A small noise escapes Sans. He thinks it might be a laugh. Frisk hugs him tighter. "I thought you might like that one," they say. "Papyrus thought it was terrible, but I knew you would find it _punny_."

This time, Sans actually laughs. It's not much, more of a hoarse wheeze than actual laugh, but it's something. Slowly, Sans turns his head to face Frisk.

"Kid," he tries to say, but it comes out as some kind of creaking sound and Frisk takes it to mean _keep talking_ instead of _please just let me die_.

"I knew a true _punatic_ like you would get it," they continue. "They aren't all that _punderful_ , though."

"Kid," Sans tries again. Frisk puts a hand over his mouth.

"I know," they whisper. "I know."

Something in Sans, some wall hidden deep within him, starts to crumble.

He attempts to sit up and nearly falls back down. Toriel catches him. "Careful, my friend," she says, a small smile on her face. She helps him sit up properly and offers him the water. Half of it ends up on the bed, but she's got more, and he's had five cups before Toriel stops him. "Are you up to eating anything?" she asks.

His stomach growls in response. Toriel laughs and gets up, stopping at the balcony outside Sans's room.

"Papyrus, is the spaghetti ready?" Toriel asks, leaning down.

"Just a moment!"

"Your brother is hungry," she continues. Sans can hear an excited gasp from the kitchen.

And then, suddenly, Papyrus is there, with a plate of spaghetti (no sauce, Toriel explains, as it might upset his stomach, considering he hasn't eaten in four days) and babbling excitedly.

" - was so worried - didn't know what to do - glad you're okay - "

"Slow down, Pap," Sans croaks. "I can't...keep up."

"I'm just - I'm glad you're okay," Papyrus says, and then he starts crying. "I was so worried when you locked the door...And then you weren't responding to my messages, and Frisk and I couldn't get the door to open no matter what we tried...." his voice breaks, just a bit. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I'm sorry," Sans says very quietly. "I just...I thought it would be - better. If I...if I was gone."

Papyrus hugs him gently. That wall Sans had built inside breaks, and for the first time since he locked himself in here, he lets himself cry.

It feels good.

"I'm sorry," Sans says, over and over.

"It's okay," Papyrus says.

"I just - I'm so tired, Pap. Of...everything." Talking takes too much energy, so he settles for hugging.

Papyrus is quiet as well. "I don't understand everything that's happened," he says, carefully. "I don't understand why you would think things would be better if you were gone. But - I'm here for you, Sans. If you ever want to talk, I will listen. I'm very good at listening," he adds, and Sans chuckles.

"You're good at a lot of things, Pap," he says.

"Like cooking spaghetti, which, by the way, you need to eat more of."

Sans takes a few more bites. It's...actually good. Not just by Papyrus standards, either.

"Frisk helped me," he adds. Frisk nods happily. "Once you are done eating, I suggest you go shower."

"That's probably a good idea," Sans agrees. He eats a bit more before putting that plate down. "Right now though....I'm still kinda tired. Could you maybe..."

Inside of replying, Papyrus picks Sans up, adjusting him so that Sans is on his back. "Toriel has stated she wanted to be the one to help you shower."

Sans' face flares blue.

"Is that alright with you?"

"That's...fine. Very fine."

Papyrus lets out a quiet nyeh-heh-heh and carries his brother down the stairs, to the bathroom. He puts him down, turns to leave, then pauses.

"Sans?"

"Yeah?"

"I do want you to talk to me at some point. It doesn't have to be today. But - I don’t like seeing you hurt like this. So whatever it is that is troubling you....Please tell me about it. You don't have to be alone."

"I will, Pap. Soon. I promise."

"Alright. I'll go get Toriel." He pauses again. "I love you, Sans."

"Love you too, bro." He sits on the edge of the bath tub and, for the first time in a very long while, contemplates life.


End file.
